


the place I belong

by icarusinflight



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Klance Reverse Bang 2018, M/M, Set in the future, and get to go home, but we're focusing mostly on Keith and Lance here okay, they all get a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 14:44:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14380833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusinflight/pseuds/icarusinflight
Summary: “I’ll take you to my beach,” Lance insists. “I’ll take you to my home.”It's one of Lance's dreams to take Keith home - to take him tohis home. It's a dream which gets him through the rough battles, long days, and sometimes lonely nights.He finally gets to.





	the place I belong

**Author's Note:**

> Wow this has been a long time coming. I was super stoked to get this beautiful artwork(will update when i get the link) from [sunflowercientist](http://sunflowerscientist.tumblr.com/). Go check it oiut and give them all the love in the world.
> 
> Many thanks to my beta [maskofcognito](https://maskofcognito.tumblr.com/) who slaved over this and rescued it from the depths of hell. You're amazing. I couldn't have done this without you.
> 
> Title comes from _Take me home country roads_ which I don't think Lance would listen to at all but I like this idea of them coming home with each other and _to_ each other.

It’s so long ago now, it almost feels like another time. Almost like they were different people. People with less battles: less miles passed and planets saved.

Yet Lance can still remember the night as if it were yesterday.

It was in that new time in their relationship. Keith was just starting to relax around him, and Lance was starting to understand what being in a relationship actually meant. They were still sneaking around—somewhat foolishly believing that no one knew what was going on, that no one else had seen the writing on the wall. It wouldn’t be until weeks—maybe even months—later that they found out how foolish that had been.

But they’d been a little caught up, or at least Lance knew he had been. It had been all he could think about: either he was with Keith, or he was thinking about Keith (or the next time they would get time alone together). The only time his mind had really strayed from Keith was during combat training or battle.

But this time had thankfully been downtime, so his mind was free to focus on Keith. Even better was the fact that they had downtime together, allowing Lance to focus not only his thoughts but also his attention on Keith.

Lying on the tiles next to the pool, Lance pushed up on his elbows, while Keith laid out on his back, his arms folded back behind his head and resting on Lance’s stomach. Keith was bony, and dug in uncomfortably—almost painfully—against Lance’s stomach. But Lance had been the one to pull Keith down against him, and the discomfort didn’t seem to matter much as he ran his fingers through Keith’s still damp hair.

“I love swimming,” Lance blurts, even though it isn’t what he wants to say. ‘ _I love doing this with you,_ ’ maybe, or ‘ _I think I might_ _be falling_ _in love with you.’_ Or maybe even ‘ _I’ve loved you already for so long.’_ But none of these things seemed appropriate to say.

Even then, Lance had known some things took time—not his feelings. They were always quick, speeding ahead and jumping in before Lance had given them permission to do so. But Keith was slower here, as if in a trade off for all that speed he exhibited when he was fighting or flying.

“Me too,” Keith agrees with a smile—a smile that maybe made Lance want to push them up from their position and kiss Keith’s lips—feel the smile against his own instead of just observe from a distance.

“It’s nice we can do it here. I mean, I miss the sand beneath my toes, and the waves, but this pool is pretty good.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Keith says casually.

Except—

—what?

“How don’t you know?” Lance asks, his fingers stilling in Keith’s hair, stopping the slow and repetitive course they’d been making through the strands. “What does that mean?”

Keith opened his eyes and turned his head to the side, making eye contact with Lance. His brows furrowing at Lance, as if what _Lance_ had said was the confusing part.

“I mean I haven’t had that.”

“How have you not had that?”

“I’ve never been to the beach,” Keith says, shrugging his shoulders against Lance’s abdomen. Even though Lance had been expecting the words—or maybe dreading them is the more accurate term—he’s still shocked. Pushing himself up to seated and knocking Keith’s head down to his lap in the process, Lance tightens his hold on Keith’s hair, keeping Keith’s face turned towards his.

“How is that even possible?” he asks, his voice incredulous.

Keith’s brow furrows further, and Lance recognises this expression as Keith getting frustrated. He knows he should back off a little, stop antagonising Keith, but he’s still stuck on the subject.

“How?” he repeats.

“I grew up in a desert, Lance,”  Keith says, his voice terse. “Where do you think I’d find a beach?”

He hadn’t actually known Keith grew up in a desert. Keith isn’t the most forthcoming with information from his past, but Lance doesn’t want to bring attention to that now.

“But deserts are sandy right?” Lance asks, a little incredulously. Keith doesn’t answer, but the look he shoots Lance speaks volumes. So no, apparently, Keith did not get sand in the desert. Which still leaves the fact that Keith has _never been to the beach_. The idea seems unfathomable to Lance.

“But didn’t you ever go to the beach? Didn’t you ever visit?”

“No, Lance,” Keith says, and his voice has moved from terse to annoyed. “I didn’t go to the beach. Not for a visit, not at all.”

Keith moves to sit up, to move away from Lance, and that’s the last thing he wants. He knows he can be a jerk sometimes, can push when he should leave things, but the last thing he wants to do is push Keith away.

Lance places his hand on Keith’s shoulder, pushing him back down. It’s an illusion at best, there’s no way Lance could hold Keith down if he wasn’t letting him. But Keith allows it, lets Lance hold him there as Lance folds himself over to place a kiss—first at the corner of Keith’s mouth, just testing the waters and letting Keith push him away if he’s too annoyed with Lance. But Keith allows it. Lance follows it with a kiss against Keith’s lips—first light, then harder against the soft flesh, feeling the tenderness underneath his own lips.

Lance pulls away slowly, looking over Keith and finding he’s not annoyed. Keith’s looking up at him, and Lance shifts the hand in Keith’s hair to rub against his cheek.

“I’m gonna fix that one day, okay? I’ll take you to the most beautiful beach in the world when he get back to Earth.”

Keith blinks, and an emotion flashes across his face, too quick for Lance to catch it. And then Keith looks—he looks frustrated—and Lance isn’t sure why.

“I’ll take you to my beach,” Lance insists. “I’ll take you to my home.”

* * *

It’s been Lance’s dream since that night to take Keith home. It’s one of his dreams, something he thinks about sometimes on the nights when he can’t sleep, or when he’s had a rough day. When Keith joins the Blade’s ranks, Lance thinks about it all the time. In his dreams they defeat Zarkon, and Keith returns home—first to the Castle, and then back to Earth. He's done it so many times, over and over again, and Lance likes to plan out the details of the holiday they’ll take. They can stay in the family cabin—or they can rent one—and Lance will take them to the beach and to the boardwalk. He’ll buy Keith candy floss and flavoured popcorn from the street vendors that litter the walkway.

Some days he thinks they might not make it—that maybe his dream will stay just that—a dream. When Keith leaves with the Blade the first time, it feels further away than ever before. Yet he uses the dream as his mental comfort space even more than usual.

When the day finally comes to return home, Lance is ecstatic, excited to be back on earth for the yellow sun and blue sky and the _sounds_ of his home planet—and how weird it’s changed from  _home country_ to _home planet_.

He’s distracted in his excitement, and it takes him longer than it should for him to realise that Keith is not. It’s not obvious—Keith tries to hide his emotions at the best of times—but it should have been obvious to Lance. Six years in space and five years in a relationship should have made him better attuned. He should be more aware, should have picked up on Keith’s anxiety.

He pulls Keith away from the main group of people. Hunk sends them a concerned look, but Lance uses _eyebrow combination number fourteen_ to convey that he has the situation under control—and subsequently ignores the questioning arch of Hunk’s eyebrows which says he doesn’t believe it. Really, Hunk should have more faith in him by now.

Lance walks them out of the viewing room. He contemplates heading to one of their bedrooms, but he doesn’t want to make his intent questionable. So he leads Keith, instead, to the kitchen. He walks them straight up to the table, hopping up to sit on it in a way that he knows would make Allura yell if she saw—something he’s learned from experience—and he tugs on Keith’s arm until Keith follows suit.

That’s another thing he’s learnt from experience: if he wants to have a conversation with Keith—a _serious_ conversation—it works better when they’re not looking at each other, when Keith doesn’t feel like he’s being watched.

“Hey,” he says, and he slips his hand down to lace their pinkies together, providing Keith with a touch—but not holding him, never trapping him, “are you okay?”

Keith’s looking at the food goo processor, and Lance is looking in its direction even while all of his attention is focused on Keith. So he might be cheating a little, taking advantage of their positions to watch over Keith, but he only does so because he’s worried.

He’s pretty sure he’s not the only one, even if the reasons might be different. Keith’s not that great at hiding his emotions if you know where to look.

Keith’s silence feels loud in the quiet room, and it feels oppressive to Lance, he can never stand to leave a silence, and now is no exception.

“Is it going back to Earth?” he prompts.

The resulting sigh tells Lance he’s on the right track.

“Do you not want to go back to Earth?” He asks, dreading the answer. He needs to ask though—needs to know—because if that’s the case then Keith isn’t going to come with him. His stomach twists at the thought. And yeah, he’ll be sad—devastated even—but he’d never force Keith to do something he doesn’t want to do.

“I’m just worried,” Keith admits finally. “I—you want me to meet your family, and I’ve never really had a family Lance. You know that. What if I don’t make a good impression?”

“Well it can’t go worse than when I met Krolia,” Lance jokes. He still wakes up occasionally to the fear that Krolia will come for him. She’s never said anything directly, but between her eyes watching him, the frankly unnecessary way she’d described her skillset, _and_ the way she’d mentioned she could still access a weapon of destructive capabilities which took out a Galra fleet, Lance got the message. Krolia is someone to be very, _very_ afraid of.

That forces a reaction from Keith, and he slips his hand into Lance’s, turning to look at him with wide eyes. He squeezes Lance’s hand tight, and Lance knows now that tight hand squeezes only happen when Keith is really worried. Which only confirms his suspicions.

“Krolia likes you,” Keith says.

Lance highly doubts that, but Krolia doesn’t seem to like anyone other than her son. Barely even seems to tolerate her superior officer Kolivan, so he’s not taking it personally.

He’s trying not to take it personally.

It’s also really not what this conversation is about.

“Yeah, well,” he says, since he doesn’t want to go down that tangent any further, “are you seriously worried about meeting my family?”

“What if they don’t like me?” Keith asks, and it’s as good an answer as any. “What if they think I’m a bad influence, or bad for you, or they don’t want their son dating a guy—an alien guy.”

 _Threatened with a weapon of mass destruction_ —Lance thinks again, but knows better than to say out loud. It wouldn’t help anything—would probably only make Keith feel bad, or be more nervous, and that’s not what Lance wants; he wants to put his boyfriend at ease, comfort him, and that’s okay because he’s got this.

He slides off the table, moving quickly to stand in front of Keith. He takes both of Keith’s hands in his own, leans forward into Keith’s space, and rests his head gently against Keith’s so they’re standing forehead to forehead, closing his eyes again to leave Keith feeling hidden from view.

“I know they’re going to love you. Michie will think you’re such a fucking badass with your scar. Karina will be jealous because—and I quote—” he lifts up their joined hands to make finger quotes in the air, “—chicks dig scars. And Seb and Gabe are gonna just think you’re the best. My mom will probably try and feed you the whole time, and my dad will probably ask you about sports stuff—so just ignore him. He’s still gonna love you, anyway.”

Lance leans forward, tipping his head up as he does so to place a kiss against the tip of Keith’s nose.

“They’re gonna love you, I promise. Because you’re amazing and you’ve helped their son get through a war. And because I love you. Even if they don’t—and they will—I love you enough for all of us. I promise you that.”

When Keith tips his head up to capture Lance’s lips in a kiss, Lance lets him, returning the kiss with gusto. He thinks maybe Keith does it to shut him up. His hands are still holding Lance’s tight enough it’s almost painful Keith gets uncomfortable around declarations of love, so Lance resists more words of affection. He can read Keith’s feelings in his actions, even if Keith struggles with hearing and returning the words. And that’s perfectly okay.

Their hands are still linked, and Lance pushes forward, aligning their bodies, pressing them close together as Keith opens his lips and allows Lance access. Lance runs his tongue along Keith’s bottom lip, before pulling it between his teeth and biting down gently.

Which is when the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts them.

They break the kiss, but don’t move any further away—and not that Lance was going to, but the way Keith squeezes his hands tighter seals it. Besides, Lance has no shame about this anymore. The amount of times the other paladins have seen as much—or worse—has grown so numerous he really can’t afford the luxury of shame. Not that he ever had much to begin with.

Keith’s face flushes red because being caught and public displays of affection are somehow more difficult for Keith to handle than fighting off an army of Galra ships. He ducks his head into Lance’s neck when Lance turns to look at the source of the noise—which definitely doesn’t help to cool him down.

It’s Hunk and Shiro this time. Hunk at least has the decency to look ashamed at interrupting them while Shiro seems to be wearing his _guys how could you_ face—and really, Lance is so far past impervious to that it’s not funny.

“Did you want something?” Lance asks, and if he sounds a little cocky, it’s only to tease Shiro a little at interrupting them.

Shiro, a little predictably, rolls his eyes. “We’ll be entering Earth’s atmosphere soon. Just thought you might like to watch the re-entry.”

Lance does, but he’s not leaving without Keith.

“You wanna come watch the big entrance?” he asks, murmuring the words low in a way that he knows won’t carry to their audience.

Keith pulls back, enough that he can look into Lance’s eyes. “Yeah,” he replies, and Lance can hear the nerves—the emotion in his voice. But he knows Keith wouldn’t lie, wouldn’t say that if he didn’t mean it. “I’d love to watch the entrance with you.”

Lance hears the words, even while they were obscured. Sometimes being with Keith took listening between the lines—something Lance was willing to do for this boyfriend.

* * *

The balcony of the small shack looks out over the water.

Lance had insisted they make it home in time to watch their first sunset in Cuba. He’d booked a beach-side shack for this exact reason. He had been able to get a hook up through his uncle to book a prime location shack instead of staying with his family in theirs. While he was excited about spending time with all of his family, there were times you just wanted to be alone with your boyfriend.

Lance is still rubbing his hair dry. It’s a bit of a shock how lackluster his Earthbound shower was after being spoiled by the ones from the Castle—but he still wouldn’t trade it for the world. He throws his towel over one of the chairs by the table to dry. When he turns towards Keith with the intent of joining him on the balcony, he pauses for a moment just to appreciate the view.

The sun is low in the sky, just flirting shy of the water, and the light shines through the clouds, reflecting off the water. This— _this_ —is exactly why he wanted to bring Keith here. He wanted Keith to see the beach, wanted him to see the beauty of it. Here with the beach, the sun, Keith, and with his family not far away, things feel _right_. Things feel like they’re meant to be, and he’s thought for a while that he wants to spend the rest of his days with Keith, but he’s never felt so _overwhelmed_ by the feeling.

He’s also overwhelmed by the need to touch Keith _now_ , so he doesn’t waste anymore time appreciating the view and takes long steps in his rush to close the distance between himself and his boyfriend. He drops into the seat next to Keith, wrapping his arms around him and nuzzling into his hair.

“Hey babe,” he whispers into his hair, “liking the view?”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful,” Keith replies, his voice is soft. He can hear the emotion in the words, and it tugs at Lance’s chest.

“Not as beautiful as mine,” Lance says, making the words sound like a joke, even if he says them sincerely. He wiggles his eyebrows even though Keith can’t see them from his position. The words still cause Keith to laugh lightly, shoving his hand into Lance’s face in a weak attempt to push Lance away.

It’s not a serious attempt—if Keith wanted to push him away he would have no trouble in doing so—so it’s just for show. Lance buries his head into Keith’s neck, and he takes advantage of the position to seal his lips against Keith’s neck and blow a raspberry against Keith’s skin. Keith jerks from the movement, and releases a sound that sounds suspiciously like a yelp as he struggles in Lance’s arms. Lance chases it with a kiss, flicking his tongue out to lick against Keith’s skin.

“Ugh,” Keith says, shoving against Lance’s head once more, before dropping his hand away in defeat, “you’re so juvenile.”

“You still love me.” Lance doesn’t even try to deny it, there’s no point. And besides, it’s not like there’s any reason to be ashamed. The only people who care about that shit are boring people, and he’s not worried by it in the least.

Keith’s arms wrap around his own, pulling Lance in tight against his body. “Yeah I do,” he whispers more than loud enough for Lance to hear, his voice louder than it usually would be due to their proximity; the words echo in Lance’s ear he can’t help the grin he feels plaster across his face.

“Okay, you big sap,” he teases. He can already see the flush of Keith’s cheeks at the admission. “You can stop embarrassing me with your declarations of affection now, and focus on the big finale.”

“I didn’t realise you got off so much on my words Lance, should I be flattered?”

It takes Lance a moment to process, and another before he realises Keith made a joke at his own expense. _Rude_.

“Just you wait. I’ll show you a big finale.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Keith deadpans.

Lance pokes him in the rib—because he can, and his boyfriend is being snarky and totally deserves it. When Keith flinches away though, Lance doesn’t let him go. Instead, he wraps both arms around Keith again, pulling him in tight.

“Alright, I will accept your surrender to me—”

“—I didn’t.”

“—my only spoils of war will be that you have to watch this sunset with me.”

Keith gives a little huff in response to that, but he also relaxes enough to let Lance pull him in tight. And they watch the sun as it moves further and further down the horizon. Lance has seen the sun set over these waters many times before, but he’s never done it like this. And Keith hasn’t—probably never even watched the sun set over any water, and that thought twists at his gut.

Tearing his gaze from the sun and the sea, he turns his head enough to look at Keith. Keith’s eyes are wide open, and he has a soft smile on his face. And Lance—Lance can’t help but think how true it was before—that this view is even more beautiful than the beach in front of them.

 _God_ —when _did_ he become such a sap?

As the sun dips below the horizon, Lance squeezes Keith, pulling him tight and rubbing his stubble against Keith’s cheek. The rasp feeling of his short hair against Keith’s own has Keith sighing and leaning into it, returning the movement.

“You wanna go back in?” They’ll need to head inside soon and turn the lights on. Dusk is quickly taking hold now that the sun has disappeared, and the other cabins on the waterfront are already glowing from within. Keith shakes his head though, eyes still locked on the sea—on where the sun had been.

Which means Lance may need to cheat a little to get his way.

“What if I promised to make it worth your while?” Lance asks, releasing the grip of his hands, but not the way he’s embracing Keith. There’s a slow pace to Varadero Beach—or at least that’s how Lance feels—and he mirrors this in his actions by tracing his hands slowly down Keith’s body, fingers and hands dancing as they make their way down Keith’s body. Lance doesn’t stop until he can slip his hands underneath Keith’s shirt, to rest against his warm skin.

His skin is damp, probably a mixture of leftover moisture from his earlier shower and the ever-present layer of sweat that comes with the heat. Lance thinks that if he were to kiss the skin, to bring his mouth to Keith’s stomach and kiss and lick his way across his stomach—and he does want to—that he would be able to taste the salty tang of sweat. He drops his lips to Keith’s shoulder, pushing aside Keith’s shirt to reveal more tantalising skin. The skin _is_ salty, Lance finds when he places a kiss there—a small one first, then an open mouthed kiss before flicking his tongue against the skin to confirm his prediction.

“Keith,” he whispers against the skin there, and he dips his hands down, flirting with the band on Keith’s shorts. “I want to go inside, please come inside with me.”

Keith’s hand moves to lay over his, but he doesn’t do anything to stop Lance’s movements, only rests his hand over the top of Lance’s.

Lance pushes under the band, his fingers dipping just below innocent. He holds his free hand against the skin of Keith’s abdomen, feeling every inhale and exhale that Keith makes. Reveling in the feeling of Keith’s skin beneath his fingers, Lance can feel every twitch in Keith’s muscles as he moves his fingers, stroking through the soft hair that rests there.

“Lance.” Keith’s words come out as a growl, a warning. “You’re being a tease.”

“I am not,” Lance refutes, his voice full of mock offense. “But say if I was—which I’m not—I might be convinced to make this a little more… explicit. If we were to move to a more appropriate area.”

Lance takes the opportunity to push his hips forward, pressing his groin into Keith’s ass. He’s been hard for a while, his mind taken with thoughts of Keith and the occasional daydream of fun things he wants to do later—wants to do _soon_ —if Keith will let him.

Lance groans at the pressure, and he doesn’t miss the sound Keith makes in reply or the way he drops his head down, baring his neck to Lance. It’s probably due to frustration, but Lance likes to think it’s an invitation—or takes it as one anyway, dropping his lips to mouth at the muscles at the base of Keith’s neck.

He wants to know if Keith’s hard, all it would take is a dip of his fingers to find out. But Lance has a plan, and he won’t be breaking it, not even for Keith’s erection; no, siree.

It’s a battle of wills. Lance wants to move inside, and Keith wants—Lance isn’t sure what he wants, he realises suddenly.

“Babe,” he mumbles into Keith’s shoulder, breathing against the skin still damp from where’d kissed it before, and he sees the shiver of reaction from Keith. “Babe I want to take you inside. I wanna fuck you, if you want me to. Please tell me that’s what you want, too.” He’s almost begging; he can hear it in his voice, and he would beg in a second if he thought it would make a difference—if he thought that would be the thing to push Keith over the edge.

Lance feels Keith’s moan reverberate through his body. There’s just a moment of stillness before Lance feels a tickle against his cheek as Keith nods.

“Come on,” he says, standing and pulling Keith with him. Not relinquishing his hold on Keith until they're standing, Lance only slips his hands out from under the elastic to wrap around his waist. He twists Keith within his grasp to face him. He wants to move them inside _now,_ but Lance has never been one for delaying gratification unless it’s needed. Keith is standing _right in front of him,_ so he can’t resist placing a kiss against Keith’s lips now that he has access to them.

When Keith opens his lips, it’s not fair. It’s a whole world away from fair, and Lance can’t help but reciprocate the kiss, opening his lips and slipping his tongue into Keith’s mouth. His hand comes up to card through Keith’s hair, fingers tightening unintentionally, though he knows Keith won’t mind. He feels Keith’s pleased hum reverberate through his mouth, feels it on his tongue and through his lips.

Kissing Keith is one of his favourite things to do. He could kiss Keith all day, just holding him and feeling those lips on his, and tasting Keith on his tongue and—

—Keith’s hips thrust forward, pressing harshly against his hard cock, and it’s a stark reminder that there are also _other_ things he wants to do.

“You little minx,” he gasps, breaking away. He doesn’t miss the self-satisfied grin on Keith’s face. He moves forward, pushing Keith into the balcony ledge and crowding into his space. “Seriously, do you not want to go inside?”

Keith shrugs, the grin still on his lips. “It’s nice out here.”

“Keith,” he groans the name out, stretching it out in his frustration, “I know it is but I promise I will make it worth your while inside.”

“Okay then Romeo, if it means so much to you to go inside.”

“You kid, but I am going to rock, your, world.”

“I am standing here, waiting for my world to be rocked.”

_Smartass._

Lance moves quickly, tugging Keith’s arm with a sharp pull, hoping to catch him off guard. But judging by the smoothness of his movements, it failed a little bit. It’s okay. It wasn’t important, anyway. He’ll find another way to wipe that smug grin off Keith’s face.

He wastes no time getting them to the small bedroom in the shack; the shack is small, thankfully. Only one bedroom, so it’s a short trip before he’s pulling Keith past him, pushing him—a little roughly perhaps, but Keith’s never been one to complain—onto the bed. He follows Keith quickly, slipping in between Keith’s legs and pushing them wider to accommodate his body.

Keith is looking up at him, just waiting. Pressed up on his elbows on the bed, he’s a sight to behold. Lance will never get tired of looking at him—he really does want to spend the rest of his days with Keith.

He wants to kiss Keith, he wants to press his erection in against Keith, he wants to _ravage him_.

So he decides to indulge a little.

He pushes Keith back down into the mattress, crawling over him to capture his lips again while pressing his hips against Keith’s groin. The beach shorts they’re wearing do nothing to hide their respective erections, and Lance can see the outline of Keith’s dick through his shorts. It makes his mouth water a little.

He captures Keith's bottom lip between his teeth, biting and pulling gently and smothering the resulting gasp from Keith with his own mouth. Lance doesn't want to release Keith's lips. Wants to keep kissing Keith, but his pooling blood reminds him he has another goal in mind and a surprise to reveal.

Pulling away a little reluctantly, he places an apology kiss against Keith's lips before leaning over the bed to the bag he'd left propped against the nightstand earlier.

He masters the movement flawlessly—maybe with a little assistance from Keith who grabs his waistband when Lance almost pitches off the bed. Still, he gets his fingers on what he was looking for, and—with a little more assistance from Keith—pulls back onto the bed.

He holds up his spoils for Keith to see.

Keith looks supremely unimpressed with it all.

“Lube?” Keith asks, tone confirming that yes, Keith is unimpressed.

“Lube!” Lance confirms enthusiastically—because whatever, Keith, this is _exciting!_ “And it’s Durex! KY Jelly! It’s Earth lube!”

“Oh really? What a surprise.” Lance resists from throwing the bottle at Keith's face. He probably deserves a medal just for that mammoth display of self control alone. Keith's mocking him, which, fair, but still _rude_. His boyfriend could at least pretend to be excited.

“Look, you _philistine._ This is exciting. And I'm not gonna let ol’ buzzkill Keith bring this down for me. Do you know how many years I kept a bottle of lube under my bed and a condom in my wallet?”

“I hope you didn’t fish that out from under your bed?”

“Oh harhar, Keith.” He swats at Keith’s hips, slapping lightly at his side. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

The grin Keith shoots him definitely says he does, but Lance ignores that. Everyone knows he’s the funny one in their relationship. Well, at least Hunk does. And Hunk is the only other person on the Castle who has a decent sense of humour.

Keith’s hands on Lance’s waistband tug, dragging him from his thoughts and reminding him that they were in the middle of something—something more important than Keith’s terrible sense of humour.

Keith’s fingers drift over Lance’s body as he moves, the touch is light but ever present. His fingers skate over Lance's body as he moves back between Keith’s legs. It’s not graceful—far from it—but at this stage if his ungainliness hasn’t turned Keith off yet he doesn’t think he needs to worry.

Dropping the lube on the bed within reach, he reaches for Keith’s shorts, wrapping his fingers under the waistband. “Can I?”

All it takes is a nod from Keith and he’s tugging Keith’s shorts and underwear down, and Keith’s erection springs free with a bounce. Lance has to move backwards to pull Keith’s shorts off completely, so he slides off the bed to stand, abandoning Keith’s short to the floor before shoving his thumbs beneath his own shorts and boxer briefs, pulling them to the floor, and stepping out of them.

Keith’s shirt hits him in the face, surprising him—though the “oof” he gives is faked. He wastes no time shedding his own tank top, throwing it at Keith in retaliation, and pounces on Keith in the moment of distraction, placing his arms down on either side of his chest.

Keith doesn’t even try to pretend to be surprised when Lance pins him, Lance can tell.

Lance can feel Keith’s erection pressing against his stomach, he can feel the wetness on his skin, and knowing he was responsible for it leaves his mouth dry.

He swipes the lube from next to Keith as he sits up, pulling Keith’s lap almost into his. He wants them to be touching, wants Keith as close as he can have him. He might be feeling a little emotional today, overwhelmed by being back home for the first time in years, from seeing his family, and from getting to have the first holiday—to actually _really_ have a break— since they all set off in a giant cat spaceship across the universe.

He can’t get the lid off, and it takes him a moment to realise it’s because the lube is still sealed. He fumbles with seal. He really should have thought about this before, but it only takes a moment and then he’s tossing the stupid foil across the room, hopefully never to trouble them again. The click of the lid opening isn’t a noise he’s heard in years, but it still brings back memories from years well past, though those times were nothing like this.

He squirts an ample amount out, catching the liquid on his fingers. It’s clear, and the texture is different to what they normally use. There’s been a few hits and misses throughout _‘Keith and Lance’s Great Space Lube Adventure,’_ and though they have it under control now, it isn’t anything like the KY jelly coating his fingers.

When he was happy he had both enough lube and a well enough spread of the lube, he folds over Keith to mouth at his hip. Shuffling his hips backwards, he loops his left arm underneath Keith’s leg while leaning on his elbow. His fingers still rub along the side of Keith’s body as his hand slips low, avoiding Keith’s dick, his balls, and searching for the area he’s oh-so-familiar with. The breathy moan from Keith when he makes contact is like music to his ears.

Lance circles his fingers around the muscle, rubbing lightly as he spreads the lube.

It’s nice to not have to worry about conservation of lubrication here—when he wants more lube all he has to do is wander down to the nearest Walgreens. Not that they’ll run out any time soon. Lance bought three different bottles. He has the KY-Jelly he’s using now, a silicone one, and even one that’s strawberry flavoured. The fact that he can just _buy_ _some_ now is exciting. It feels like a transition into adulthood, and if they’d still been on Earth when they started having sex maybe it would have happened then. Instead, it’s years delayed.

He wants Keith to understand. He _needs_ to try and explain it.

“I know it seems silly to be excited over lube,” Lance admits, as his fingers stroke over the muscle. He only waits a moment before slipping a finger inside Keith, feeling the tight heat he knows so well. He moans into Keith’s hip at the feeling, hearing the sound echoed by Keith. “But, I just feel like… I don’t know. Like this is something we missed out on.”

Lance withdraws his fingers before pushing back in, and with each push he feels his finger go deeper, until he can’t push in any further. He rotates his finger around, feeling out the space inside Keith with a practised ease. This time when he pulls his finger out it’s the easiest thing to do to slip another finger in alongside it, and the groan Keith makes goes straight to Lance’s groin, pooling heat at the base of his stomach.

“I was excited to have that experience,” Lance adds, as he plunges his fingers in, twisting them with every thrust. “If we were just two students at the Garrison getting together we would have had all these experiences: going to Walgreens to buy lube and condoms, giggling at sex shops, instead of experimenting with random ointments and searching every space mall to try and find a lubricant.” Although those experiences had been fun, in their own way. Full of laughter and Keith’s unique brand of abruptness. They’ve never used condoms either, and there’s a pack of those too in the bag, but that wasn’t what Lance wanted tonight.

“Lance—”

Lance cuts off Keith’s words with a particularly hard thrust, just because he can. The cut off gasp he gets in response is entirely worth it.

“You were saying?” Lance asks, drawing his fingers back and slipping a third inside Keith to punctuate his words.

“You’re an ass,” Keith gasps out, his breath coming harder now. For all that Keith is trying to speak Lance doesn’t ease up, thrusting in just as hard and relishing in the fact that he’s making it more difficult for Keith. It’s just how they are—the push and pull of them and always trying to challenge or one up each other. And that will never change, certainly not just because they’ve moved to a bed.

“You should have said,” Keith tries again, forcing words out between heavy breaths, “if that’s what you wanted. I would have—I would have come with you.”

Lance hides his smile against Keith’s hip, distracting them both with a sharp nip, enough that Keith gasps again. When Lance pulls back the skin is already flushed red from his teeth. He drops his lips back to the spot, nibbling the flesh between his teeth in a way that he knows will leave a mark. Lance wants to see it tomorrow morning when they wake up.

Keith’s half-groans only help motivate him in his quest, and this time when he pulls away the skin is dark and he knows it will be there tomorrow. He places a kiss against the forming hickey, soothing over the mark he’s left before pulling back.

Sitting up, he pulls his fingers from Keith. The movement forces a whimper from Keith—a sound so rarely won from his lips; Lance can’t help but smile to himself as he takes the opportunity to add more lube to his fingers before slicking up his cock and lining himself up. He takes a breath, then another—trying in vain to control his breathing—and then he’s pushing inside.

Keith is blisteringly hot, which is never new but somehow always surprising. Lance pushes inside slowly, and Keith groans, one hand fisting in the sheets while his other hand grips Lance’s wrist iron tight. The hold is just over the edge of painful, not that he minds. When Lance bottoms out, he can’t—doesn’t even try to—contain the groan at feeling Keith around him. Hot and tight and everything he wants.

Keith’s looking at the roof, eyes fluttering as his breath hitches. That’s not what Lance wants though. “Keith,” he says, calling the name and holding still as he waits for his attention—waits for Keith to look at him.

His pupils are blown wide, but Lance can still see that beautiful shade of purple—a colour he’s only ever seen with Keith. “Keith, look at me,” he demands, holding Keith’s gaze and waiting for the small nod before he rolls his hips again. Keith’s eyes flutter shut again, but it’s only a moment before they come back to him, trapping Lance under that stare.

Keith’s legs move to wrap around Lance, linking behind Lance’s back and it only drives him deeper. Lance rolls his hips, forcing another moan from them both. His free hand slips between them, searching for Keith’s erection. And when he finds it, Keith reacts spectacularly, arching backwards in a way that shows off the beautiful lines of his body. Lance will always appreciate a view that shows off Keith’s body.

He’s limited by Keith’s legs holding him tight, but even if it would give him more freedom to move he doesn’t want to pull away. He doesn’t want to break the hold Keith has on him. Rolling his hips slowly, Lance strokes his hand around Keith in time with his movements, squeezing tighter on every upthrust. Listening to the sounds Keith makes, the breathy moans which fall from his lips, is euphoric.

A pressure builds low in Lance’s stomach, each roll of his hips increasing the sensation. His thrusts lose rhythm as he chases his pleasure and Keith’s. Lance can barely hear Keith over the sound of his own breathing, it’s so loud in his own ears.

Keith’s getting close. Lance can hear it in the noises he’s making, can see it in the ripples of his stomach, and can feel the tensing of muscles around him. He’s achingly close himself, and he increases the speed of his hand, no longer making any attempt to synchronise. Keith tenses, clenching around him, and gasps a hitching breath—the sound so familiar to Lance’s ears. And then he’s coming hot over Lance’s fingers and both of their stomachs. Lance strokes him through, thrusting through Keith’s pulses, and it’s only a moment or two more before Lance’s own orgasm overtakes him. There’s a flash of heat which starts from below his stomach, spreading out until it overtakes his body and his mind. His brain whites out as he shudders through the sensations.

There’s come between them, and they’re sweaty from the heat and their workout. Their bodies are damp and the sheets stick to them, but Lance doesn’t pay that any attention as he collapses on top of Keith—ignoring the “oof” from Keith.

It’s harder to ignore Keith’s hand shoving his shoulder, and Lance lets himself be pushed, going with the movement until he’s lying next to Keith. He already misses Keith’s touch but appreciates the distance and coolness it brings, his body still overheated from the climax. What would be far more helpful would be turning on the fan, and the temptation of cool air is what motivates Lance to finally move from the bed.

He cleans himself up in the bathroom first, before rinsing the cloth and bringing it to Keith, cleaning the worst of the fluids from his body. With their bodies somewhat clean, he hits the switch for the ceiling fan on his way out of the bedroom, hearing a noise from Keith which resembles a grunt of thanks. When he comes back the second time, this time with glasses of water, Keith’s lying on his stomach.

He places the glasses on the bedside table before flicking on the small fan there too, it’s not overkill when they’re both sweaty messes.

“Hey,” he says as he kneels on the bed next to Keith. When Keith ignores him, he shoves at Keith’s shoulder. “Hey, you know your back gets sore if you sleep on your stomach.” They all have their aches and pains—years fighting as defenders of the universe will do that to you—and Lance knows Keith’s as well as he knows his own, if not better. He knows the best way to address them, or better still, how to prevent them from flaring up.

Lance lies down on the bed, poking Keith in the sides, which earns him a grunt, “C’mon you can’t stay like that, come here.”

Keith grumbles but surrenders, shuffling closer to throw an arm over Lance’s stomach, and to hook a leg between Lance’s. They know from experience that as long as he’s not lying flat on his stomach that he’ll be okay, but sometimes, some days, Keith still tries it.

Old habits die hard or something.

Lance wraps his arm around Keith’s shoulder, rubbing over the skin still damp skin there.

“Lance,” Keith’s words vibrate his chest, just shy of tickling. “If you want to go look at lube, or condoms, or sex shops or whatever, we can. I’ll go with you tomorrow—if you want.”

The words feel like they reverberate even further, sending warmth down to his stomach. He brings his spare arm to wrap around Keith, pulling him tight in an embrace.

“It doesn’t have to be tomorrow,” he tells Keith. “I—I might have bought more lube and condoms.” He can feel his face flushing in embarrassment, expecting Keith to laugh at him again, but he simply nods his head against Lance’s chest.

“But I’d like to go to a sex shop. There’s one I used to pass by when we vacationed here—and I always wanted to go there when I was old enough. But it doesn’t have to be tomorrow. We’ve got time,” Lance reassures him.

“Okay,” Keith replies, his voice soft. But his next words are even softer, and Lance could have missed them if not for the fact that he feels Keith’s mouth move against his skin. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” His words are said without hesitation, spoken as soon as he hears Keith’s. The words may not come easy to Keith, but for Lance they’re always there—ready to be said at any occasion.

They should move; should probably shower; should make dinner. Or at least eat something, but Lance can’t find it in himself to move. There's a relaxation enveloping him that they're not allowed on the Castle. As much as they have shared these moments, there's always the knowledge in the back of their head that at any point the alarms could go off, and they're expected to be ready for battle. Or maybe it's that this area, this beach, is a place of safety for Lance. He feels protected by it, able to relax in a way he's not sure he's really truly done for a long time.

He’s happy here. He lets the touch of Keith, the soft sound of his evened breathing, and the distant sounds of waves on the beach take him under as he drifts off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Comments and Kudos give me life  
> Find me at tumblr at [candybarrnerd](http://candybarrnerd.tumblr.com/)


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